


Stay With Me

by carolinelamb



Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dark Agenda, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Emotional Manipulation, Fluff and Angst, Frosthawk - Freeform, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Morally Ambiguous Character, Oral Sex, Possible Character Death, Rimming, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 13:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinelamb/pseuds/carolinelamb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki refused to remember that night with Barton when was defeated. </p><p>He did not think of it when Thor took him back to Asgard, and the Avengers came to see him off. He forced himself to stare at Barton with indifference. </p><p>He forced himself to not think of it in his lonely days in the Asgardian prison cell, waiting for Odin's verdict. </p><p>Only after he was sent back to Earth to atone for his crimes, stripped of most of his magic, he decided to stop fighting this particular memory. </p><p>It was too hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay With Me

**Author's Note:**

> What does Caro do when suffering from an extensive writer's block?
> 
> Write something else.
> 
> I am sorry for taking so long with my next chapter for my long and winded Frosthawk Omega-verse, but yes, I am, have been struggling. While I have been trying to find my way out of a plothole the size of Greenland, I wrote this, a hopefully softer take on my OTP :)
> 
> Many, many thanks to my great beta Wonderluck! I love you!
> 
> * * *

Prologue

Loki found the Midgardian air difficult to breathe. It was poisoned, laden with the stink of death. He suspected that a prolonged existence on Earth would shorten his life considerably, even though he would apply magic.

Barton had found a safe location where he and the other men could rest, then made something like a small bed for him in a secluded corner.

"Rest, boss," he told Loki curtly. "You need to rest for a few hours. We have enough time for that."

"You think you can give me orders?" Loki said, but without bite. Barton was too amusing, part murderous soldier, part mother hen. He hid it well, but he could see the desire to fuss in Barton's eyes.

"If you don't rest now, when we have still time, you won't be able to give _me_ orders," Barton replied, "boss."

Loki smiled and let himself be led to the corner. 

Before he could employ his magic to free himself of his heavy armor, the metal plates that seemed to weigh three times their weight in Asgard, Barton began divesting him of his clothing with astonishingly nimble fingers.

"I will wake you in a few hours," Barton said, pushing him down. As if he had unlocked something inside Loki, he felt heavy with sleep. A part of him was alarmed at his readiness to trust a human, but another part wanted nothing more than to close his eyes.

Before he drifted off, he felt a peculiar warmth at his neck, then the gentle press of calloused fingers, and he realized that for some reason, Barton's mouth had been hovering only an inch from his skin. 

Days later in Stuttgart, Barton proved more rebellious than Loki had foreseen and refused to obey him.

"This plan is too reckless," he insisted. "And I know Nat–Agent Romanoff. And Director Fury. They're dangerous and even more when they feel cornered."

"Are you insulting me, Barton?" Loki snapped, irritated. He was haunted by dreams of the Chitauri at night, and often woke up with his heart beating rapidly, mind filled with fear, and had little patience for petty squabbles with his foot soldiers.

Barton sulked, his eyes narrowed, and Loki wondered, not for the first time, how powerful that scepter really was. At times Barton didn't seem very subdued at all.

"Am only thinking of your end goal is all," Barton snapped, "and I fail to see how letting them catch you and put you in a cell isn't taking a huge risk. If you wanna cause trouble, surely there must be another, less dangerous way."

"I need you to obey me, not to argue with me," Loki hissed, and in that moment already, Barton had stepped forward and laid a hand onto his arm. Technically speaking, he was not allowed to do that. In Asgard no one was allowed to lay a hand on the prince, and he could have had Barton's hand cut off. On Midgard however, such rules didn't exist, and so Loki tolerated the touch, even leant into it. Whenever Barton touched him like this, it was an expression of devotion, and the emotions he saw in Barton's eyes always softened Loki's heart.

"I will, sir," Barton said. "I'll always obey you. If that's what you wanna do, then … fine, we'll do it your way. You're the boss." 

He grinned.

Loki sighed. It was not a smart thing to alienate the most faithful of his men, and he sought to soothe Barton.

"You are my most trusted soldier, know that," he told Barton, and Barton's blue eyes went wide with the praise. Loki briefly wondered what the real color of his eyes would look like.

Barton stepped closer to Loki and tightened his grip on his arm. "I'll go wherever you go," he whispered. Barton's breath felt warm on his face, and although Loki knew it was unwise he remained still and did not move away. 

"Sir," Barton said, and his lips were so close. Then he put his hand onto Loki's neck and pulled him down and kissed him. Loki should not allow it and thought briefly of pushing him away—to preserve his dignity—but Barton's lips felt so warm and soft, he tasted so good, and Loki raised his hand to pull Barton closer.

"Loki," Barton said.

Loki closed his eyes.

*****

Soon after Loki's forced return to Midgard, Fury turned up in his holding cell and showed him two identical heavy metal collars. He activated one via a remote control, and Loki could feel a sickening hum, like a faint whirring.

Something inside him screamed in panic, and he could not help but take a few steps back, the hair on his neck standing up. 

"Should you give us reason to, we will put this on you," Fury said in an amiable tone. "It effectively depletes and destroys your magic."

"You think you can frighten me?" Loki hissed, but he could not help staring at the vile thing. Even from the safe distance of several meters he could feel it poisoning him.

"Perhaps," Fury said. "Or perhaps not."

He pushed another button and took a step back, pulling Loki with him. A glass wall slammed down in front of them and a shrill noise filled the room. It rose in frequency, got higher and higher and finally the collar exploded. Bits of metal flew around, ricocheting off the walls.

"Not even an Asgardian god would survive this detonation," Fury said.

Loki merely grinned. Then, right before Fury's eye, he became translucent like a ghost and vanished.

Fury whirled around just in time to see Loki materializing behind him. Loki clenched his fists to pretend that this demonstration had not nearly depleted all his energy.

"In order to put that on me, I'd have to let you." He gave Fury a nasty smile. "And do you believe that Thor would let this happen to me?"

Fury nodded, then took the other collar with him and left.

*****

Despite Fury's obvious defeat, meetings with him were increasingly less about Loki or his plans and lost their interrogative nature. In all honesty there wasn't much to divulge; Loki had not formed detailed plans beyond his taking Midgard, and Fury understood that. Instead he began to inquire about things that had seemed of lesser importance in the beginning, information regarding not only the Chitauri, but also other realms and other races.

It was almost entertaining to tell Fury about the things he had seen in his travels, and in a way Loki enjoyed himself. He had never been able to share much of the things he had seen and learned on his lonely endeavours to learn magic and the secrets of the universe. Fury was interested in all of that, and Loki could sometimes see the flicker of jealousy behind the coldness of his one eye, the sudden realization that Loki would survive all of this, would even _be_ when Fury and even the memory of him would be nothing but dust. 

After several weeks of almost daily conversations with Fury, who recorded everything on thin, minimalistic metal devices, Fury began to ask Loki about individuals on Midgard he had contacted at one or another time, like that madman Victor von Doom. 

The Chitauri had only been the beginning. Other vermin were crawling out of their realms, hungry for Midgard, but Midgard had its own monsters too. It was laughable that S.H.I.E.L.D had so little information, so little means to see what Loki could see. At one meeting he humiliated an entire department of S.H.I.E.L.D agents by informing them about a plan von Doom was hatching, building an arms and drug empire in Bolivia, through which he wanted to finance other operations in Eastern Europe, namely gun manufacturing and trade. Although Loki kept a polite expression, he laughed internally when one of the agents thanked him for the information he had given them.

Every time Loki's intelligence turned out to be correct, he received little rewards. He was put in a larger cell. He was granted more privacy and the glass cells turned into actual rooms. After a month he was transferred to Stark Tower. He was allowed books, TV, a computer, although his access to the Internet was predictably restricted in the beginning. 

He was not allowed to move around freely, but then again, he had not been allowed to do as he wanted in his old life as a prince of Asgard either. As young men, Thor and Loki had to elaborately plan every outing into other realms or into the city of Asgard, deceive Odin and Frigga, organise disguises and trustworthy companions. They had never been free to just wander around as they wished, and in that regard Loki sensed little actual difference to his old life and soon adapted to it. In Asgard he had had servants at his beck and call, and in Midgard these were now the drivers and guards. 

On his outings he was shadowed by at least ten agents, but Loki would not acknowledge the ridiculously unsubtle presence of very fit looking men and women in dark suits, vans and motorbikes driving by and that occasional helicopter in the sky over him. It actually flattered him. He was at their mercy, his magic considerably weakened, and still, they feared him.

The S.H.I.E.L.D agents, even Fury, were like little children, intimidated by Loki's powers, but unable to resist what he could offer. He gave them names and places, numbers of bank accounts even, helped them connect the dots, but more than that, he could predict future actions. Nothing about that was magic—it had always been Loki's talent to immediately conjure up different scenarios, then pick the most likely one and react accordingly. Loki had never been a very good tactician (unlike Thor, who was an excellent leader during battle) but a strategist. His forte had been long-term planning, and even Odin had at times sought his advice. 

Fury too came to rely on it, especially when it came to antagonists Loki knew of, and after a few weeks of meeting with him, even asked him to read a classified report, then offer his opinion on it. Loki did, and with resounding success. Each of his assessments were proven correct, and from then on Fury asked him in higher priority cases and consulted him on a weekly basis.

The new development suited Loki but soon difficulties arose, complications he had long foreseen and dreaded. His continued presence on Midgard and in Stark Tower of all places meant that he was, in one way or the other, reminded of Barton. At some point he was bound to meet him, face to face, maybe sit with him in the same room, working on the same project. Fury was hinting heavily at Loki's direct involvement in Avenger-related projects and missions.

Loki had refused to remember that night with Barton when he had been defeated. He did not think of it when Thor took him back to Asgard, and the Avengers came to see him off. He forced himself to stare at Barton with indifference. He forced himself to not think of it in his lonely days in the Asgardian prison cell, waiting for Odin's verdict. Only after he was sent back to Earth to atone for his crimes, stripped of most of his magic, he decided to stop fighting this particular memory. It was too hard.

Loki remembered the hungry glint behind the blue of Barton's eyes, the excitement it ignited in him.

Barton had been insatiable, had worshipped every inch of his body, covered him with kisses, looked at him with adoration, had taken him over and over again like a man possessed; and yet tenderly, gently, he had vowed eternal devotion and love, and Loki had given himself to this. He had allowed himself the luxury of daydreams: once he was king he would take Barton as his consort and together they would rule the realms.

No, it was impossible to pretend to himself that night had not happened.

Lately he'd come across Barton's name in emails and memos, lists of operatives to be dispatched, in conversation with other agents and in various meetings when operations and missions had to be discussed. 

Finally, Fury gave him a list of attendants for a meeting in which he had to prepare and deliver a briefing himself about a mission in Bolivia, the target being Victor von Doom, and the first name he saw at the very top, was Clint Barton's name, referred to as "Hawkeye".

Their first actual meeting after the battle of New York was anticlimactic. Fury and a few of the other team members filed in, then Hill, Romanoff and Barton appeared and sat down. 

He expected hostility and more or less passive aggressiveness from Barton: doubts, arguments, even escalation. Instead Barton listened carefully to the brief, only asked relevant questions and was civil. Pleasant, even. Romanoff seemed mildly surprised at the neutral atmosphere, and Fury and Hill exchanged glances with each other, as if to say, "See? I told you it would be all right," and "Well, for now let's just sit back and watch!" 

A few days later, Loki was scolded for the first time by Fury, saying he spent more than two hours a day monitoring the operatives in Bolivia, micromanaging the security measures concerning Barton's transport, watching the team over the GPS cameras and earned a disbelieving stare when he suggested sending three more operatives to ensure a smooth operation.

Loki played it cool, as the Midgardians would say, shrugged and pointed out in a very detached way that the cost of losing Barton would be higher than the cost of sending three additional operatives. If he exaggerated slightly the danger that von Doom posed, it was only to accommodate Fury's sometimes-limited ability to recognize the danger humankind was in.

Fury only bellowed, "No more operatives! If a team of twelve highly trained Class A agents can't bring down one lousy Latverian megalomaniac, we don't deserve to survive."

A week later, Loki entered the office on his way to a meeting with Hill and Fury. Suddenly an alarm sounded and everyone began hurrying around; there was shouting, more running around, feverish pushing of buttons and keys, another siren chiming in. Someone yelled about restoring connections, then another agent called from her desk, "We've lost them." Some of the screens went black, and a team of agents immediately began working on them and unplugging cables, while another team began hacking on two notebooks.

It was chaos, albeit organized chaos. Loki's blood literally froze and he caught an agent by his sleeve.

"Is Agent Barton hurt?"

The man gave him an incredulous look. "We lost connection to two team members in _Paris_ , there is nothing wrong with the Bolivia team."

Loki tried to give him a scathing stare, but before he had adjusted his facial features accordingly, the man was already gone.

Operation Bolivia was a great success—and not only that, Loki had passed an internal S.H.I.E.L.D test he hadn't known he'd been taking. It had been suspected that he could join Doom, and putting him in charge of the operation had been a test of his loyalties. When Loki not only failed to betray S.H.I.E.L.D despite plenty of opportunities, but also achieved such brilliant success in destroying von Doom's network while preserving the operatives lives, team members began to display a level of trust in him that he had never experienced before. For a moment everyone seemed to have forgotten that he had only months ago threatened to destroy their planet.

Doom had not been captured, but his network in Bolivia was gone and it would take him some time to rebuild his labs again. Fury was extraordinarily pleased and nearly smiled when recounting the labs, plants and offices S.H.I.E.L.D had managed to take out. 

Fury's approval felt good, and that evening Loki allowed himself to have a glass of the vile champagne humans were fond of. Barton left early but congratulated him and Loki was embarrassed to feel ... elated about the praise. 

From then on Loki was often called to consult, especially when it came to extraterrestrial attacks, and these kinds of operations usually involved the Avengers as well.

The expectant tension that had defined their first meetings evaporated slowly, although never entirely for Loki. Whenever he felt Barton's gaze on him, he felt a shiver running down his spine and became a little more conscious about himself.

Then one day, Barton attended a meeting where Loki was present without having anyone else from the Avengers accompanying him. Usually someone was always with him, mostly Romanoff but also Banner or Rogers. This time he walked in alone, took a seat close to Loki, and listened quietly to the briefing, making notes in a small, black book. When the logistical and financial aspects of the operations had been discussed, the other participants filed out but Barton stayed, and he and Loki were alone going through the schedule again, discussing weapons, tactics, strategies.

Suddenly the room seemed to small for the two of them, and Loki felt his skin tingling. Barton drew something onto a sheet of paper, pointed at it. Loki followed the movement of his hand. He remembered the same hand touching him, holding him. Barton even leant in, so close he could smell his cologne and the slight tang of sweat underneath.

Loki put his hand on Barton's arm. 

He felt lightheaded doing it, and he knew Barton would hurt him for it, maybe strike him, but a part of him could not care. The memory was so strong, and it refused to vanish. It was not in his mind any longer, but part of him, like an organ, something lodged in his chest.

If Barton yelled at him or pushed him away, he would explain this to him, Loki thought. That he had this memory inside him, and that this memory was too powerful.

Barton didn't yell at him. 

He did not move away, but he did avert his eyes. When Loki withdrew his hand after a while, Barton took Loki's fingers and pressed them against the bulge between his legs, that undeniably hard cock, without looking at him.

He did not say a word, only continued to look forward while massaging himself with Loki's hand. Loki became excited and felt himself harden, felt his own breathing speed up.

It was wrong, he knew. He should not do this because somehow he was hurting Barton, _again_. What he did was selfish. It was not that he didn't care, but at the same time he could not stop. 

Stopping would suffocate him.

He continued to touch Barton. It felt so good, just his hand on his flesh, even through the wool of Barton's suit trousers.

He waited patiently for Barton to tell him to stop.

As he should.

After a while Barton stood up.

"Let's get out of here," he said in a nonchalant voice, but Loki could hear the slight rough edge underneath.

Barton dismissed Loki's assigned driver for the day and they took the elevator down to the parking garage. Wordlessly they walked to Barton's car. 

Barton drove them to a nearby pier, where he parked the car in a secluded spot. He stared straight ahead, put both of his hands onto the wheel and at some point shook his head, as if holding an inner monologue with himself.

Loki moved to touch him and Barton flinched. Loki withdrew his hand.

"Sorry," he said softly.

He realized he did not know what he was apologizing for, but he hoped that it would suffice.

Barton exhaled. Then, just like before, he put Loki's hand onto his crotch in a blunt manner, and pressed it against his bulge.

"Good?" Loki ventured, feeling something strange that he recognized as shyness. He had never felt shy around anyone, not with women, not with men. And yet Barton unsettled him. 

Gently he massaged Barton's cock, cataloguing his every reaction, and when Barton dropped his hands from the wheel to open his pants, Loki felt his heart beat faster. Barton pushed his briefs down and his erect cock literally jumped into Loki's palm. It was every bit as beautiful as he remembered it and Loki began to stroke it.

Barton hissed, leaning back and closing his eyes. Loki couldn't see much of his face as most of it was turned away from him, but he saw his Adam's apple move whenever he swallowed.

Carefully, he leaned over Barton's cock, and then licked the head. 

Barton inhaled sharply, and his breathing became ragged. Loki smiled around his mouthful of cock and begun to suck in earnest, pushing it into his throat, ignoring his gag reflex.

When Barton started to leak pre-cum, Loki moaned and ran his tongue over the slit and around the frenulum to taste more. He let Barton arch into his mouth, nearly suffocating him. Tears sprang to his eyes, but then Barton's cock started twitching and jerking and Loki knew he was coming. Barton tried to warn him, to push him away, but Loki just sucked harder, refusing to let go.

Barton cursed softly then went into rictus, and a moment later, his load filled Loki's mouth. He swallowed every drop down, and cleaned Barton's softening cock, before putting it back into his pants.

Barton was lying sprawled in his seat, following Loki's movements with lazy, hooded eyes. Again, when Loki looked directly at him, he averted his eyes, looking down. Barton sat up, fishing for a box of Kleenex in the back seat and cleaned himself off.

"Thanks," he said after a while.

"You're welcome," Loki said, dressing Barton again and strangely enjoying it. He buttoned the trousers, closed the belt, and before he knew what he was doing he pressed a kiss into Barton's palm.

Barton, after a moment's hesitation, reached over to Loki. With quick, efficient movements he undid Loki's trousers, then stroked his cock through his briefs.

It was evident that he was simply returning the favor though, and Loki stilled his hand.

"That is not necessary, Agent Barton," he said. "We should get back to the office."

Barton nodded with barely hidden relief and started the car.

After that episode, things changed. Loki offered to help Fury more and more, pretending that his father made his goodwill dependent on his good behavior on Earth. 

"The All-Father made it clear that if I fail to be of use for you, he'll take very unpleasant measures."

Fury, only too happy to have Loki at S.H.I.E.L.D quarters and helping them, did not question this lie. Loki managed quite often to get himself assigned to teams where Barton was a member. 

He was disappointed that Barton never made a move at all. Even when they were alone in the briefing room together, which happened more and more, Barton never mentioned what had occurred between them nor made any attempt to replicate this event.

Finally, two months after their car incident, Loki, who finished work at four o'clock, stayed longer and waited for Barton. Barton worked until eight, and swiftly Loki left work with him.

They both lived in Stark Tower, albeit on different floors, so Barton naturally offered a ride, dismissing the driver dispatched for Loki. Once in the car, Loki initiated small talk, careful not to come across as too chatty but also to appear as human as possible, and covered topics like movies and books and things he had read in magazines, things that could be of interest to Barton like limited editions of archery equipment (he had studied archery intensely over the course of the last weeks). He received only grunts and mono-syllabic answers. 

Loki even resorted to telling him stories about himself, work-related things, nothing too personal, nothing that could spook Barton, but more like anecdotes that he hoped would present him in an even more human light, show that he was fallible as well, peppered with questions about advice.

Barton was only interested in the traffic and in one instance rudely interrupted Loki by turning on the radio.

In the end Loki fell silent, resigned.

Only when Barton parked the car in the underground parking lot of Stark Tower, he remained seated instead of getting out instantly, as if waiting for something.

Loki understood.

Carefully and very slowly he put his hand on Barton's thigh, hiseyes never leaving Barton’s face, and again Barton moved his hand to his crotch. He was rock-hard, and moaned when Loki cupped him and began to massage him.

Relief flooded Loki's mind.

It wasn't him. 

Barton was not averse to _him_ : He was just not a conversationalist. Loki then remembered his bits of the childhood he had seen in his memories, knew that Barton was not an eloquent person in the best of times, but he did trust Loki with sex, and that was at least something.

If he was all right with putting his cock into Loki's hands, things couldn't be too bad.

He opened Barton's belt and unzipped his pants, pulled out the hard cock, and began to stroke it, relishing the heavy weight in his hand, the warmth and the silky feel of the shaft.

Before he could bend down to take it in his mouth (and he longed to taste it), Barton unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over and opened Loki's pants.

Loki was about to object, but Barton gripped his cock firmly and began to jerk him off in a fast efficient way, and soon Loki was in no state to argue with anyone. He arched up from his seat, and then Barton even slid his hand under his shirt and squeezed Loki's nipples.

He moved to look Barton in his eyes, feeling his stare, but Barton turned away immediately.

Loki gasped and moments later came into Barton's hand. 

Barton pulled his hand back and Loki cleaned himself up, wiped the come off his belly before it could run down at the sides and stain Barton's seats, then bent over Barton's hand and licked it clean, while stroking Barton's cock.

Barton lasted two minutes. 

Loki glanced up through his lashes as he continued sucking Barton's thumb. Barton had his eyes closed.

After a while Barton moved, then closed his pants, looking at his hands in his lap.

He looked a little forlorn, so Loki asked him, keeping his voice as gentle as possible, "Are you all right? Wanna go up?"

(He was pleased that he could easily contract words now, sounding very American. Or at least like someone from this century.)

Barton looked at him, slightly startled.

"Yeah, I'm all right," he said. "I just need a minute here, so … I'll see you at our next meeting. Thursday, right?"

"Wednesday, actually," Loki said mechanically, and Barton corrected himself. "Wednesday."

*****

On Wednesday morning Loki learned that Barton had been dispatched to a mission in Europe and was due to return in two weeks. Immediately after that, Barton went off to another mission. And another.

Loki didn't know if Barton had requested it, but he was no longer in charge of planning or consulting operations with Barton. It seemed like some sort of promotion though, because in a very long and grueling meeting, Loki was questioned and prodded by the S.H.I.E.L.D council, had to sign numerous papers, and received a bank account.

He was as of now officially hired. The money didn't really matter to him, but somehow the idea of having a bank account and having a "job" excited him. He felt, as stupid as it sounded to his own ears … closer to Barton. More like him. And more human.

He was moved into another area, together with a bunch of very young looking agents, all of them office employees, who knew only the basics about field operation but were strategists and planners. Loki was awarded the title of strategic consultant. After half an hour with his new “colleagues”, he realized that Fury had done him a favor; unlike the S.H.I.E.L.D agents he had dealt with before, these people had no real idea who he was. They were all fairly new, and at the time of the attack on NYC they hadn't been in the headquarters. Their curious looks told him that they must have been briefed about him, but no one was afraid or bitter because no one had lost a loved one through him.

It was nice to work in this atmosphere, and he didn't mind it. After a week, one of the new "colleagues" invited him casually to join them for drinks after work, and he accepted. He liked to have the opportunity to observe them close up, memorizing some of their pop culture references and jokes, the little things that people inserted in small talk to appear part of a group.

A month later he walked to Fury's office, passing a row of offices and work spaces on his way. 

Barton was leaning at a desk, a cup of coffee in his hand, laughing and joking with someone Loki couldn't see from the corridor.

"Oh my god, you should have seen him yesterday! He was doing this Jesus Quintana thing all the time!" A round of laughter erupted. Barton made a funny dance, wiggling his hips, and swung an invisible bowling ball. The laughter rose in pitch and volume. 

An agent slapped his shoulder while passing by, "Hey, Dude!" he said and Barton saluted him. A girl, who’d been sitting at the desk Barton was now leaning against, stood up and said, "Ok, we're on for tomorrow, guys. Drinks, karaoke, yeah? And Barton, you are forbidden to hog the mic again!" 

She pointed at Barton.

"Nobody does Cher better than I do," Barton quipped, leaning a little closer to her. The girl punched him playfully, "Oy, I'll be watching you!"

Only when Loki was standing right in front of Barton, he realized he had walked towards him.

The laughter died down abruptly and the girl looked at him uneasily. 

"Agent Barton," he said, trying for a neutral, polite tone, but failing. When did he become so bad in pretense?

"Loki!" Barton's cheerful face formed into a careful, bland mask. "I should maybe say _Agent_ Loki from now on."

"I'm not an agent," Loki replied. "My official job title is 'Strategic Consultant.'"

"Well, congratulations," Barton said after an awkward pause.

He shifted from one foot to the other, looking everywhere else, placing his hand on his neck.

"Thanks," Loki said, not sure why it hurt so much. 

He didn't know what else to say so he turned around and walked away.

"Creepy," he heard the girl say, while someone else was furiously shushing her.

He was distracted during the meeting to the point where Fury sometimes knocked on the table and demanded he rephrase things because Loki rambled aimlessly. 

Finally Fury leant back, closing the case file. Loki, who had learned to decipher this as a sign that the meeting was over, rose.

"What is wrong with you today?" Fury asked. "Is everything all right?"

"I didn't sleep much." Loki cringed internally at how hollow his voice sounded.

"Overall, I got very positive feedback about you and your work," Fury said, out of nowhere.

"Thank you?" Loki managed to say, somewhat wary of Fury's friendliness. "I think?"

Fury let out a soft laugh.

"Including last week's operation in Massachusetts, you have saved as many lives as were taken on that day in Manhattan," he said.

Loki blinked. 

He did not know how to feel. 

"I have never felt remorse," he said finally. "I don't care particularly about humans."

"Is that so?" Fury cocked his head, his one eyes staring right through him. Loki suppressed his urge to squirm and raised his chin defiantly. "Well, then simply take it as a marker for your success."

*****

Fury's words continued to haunt him for days. It wasn't as much the first part of the sentence; it was the lives he had taken.

Once, he went out on his own and sat in a café, just watching people pass by, and it occurred to him that he was like a predator in their midst, a wolf disguised as lamb. It was only a matter of time until someone would recognize him.

Or until he would follow his fatal instincts, strike again. The monster inside him wanting to feed again. It was bound to happen, wasn't it?

He smiled at a passing girl, who smiled back before hurrying on to whatever place she had to get to, and thought that Barton would never be able to erase the knowledge of what Loki was. 

No amount of pretending to be human would make Barton un-see the truth. Even when, at times, Loki managed to fool himself, Barton would never, ever be fooled.

When he arrived back at his apartment, Barton was sitting in the living room on his couch.

He did not turn around when Loki approached almost as if to show him that he wasn't afraid. When Loki was close enough to reach out and touch Barton he said, "I don't have my Asgardian reflexes any longer, but I could easily be pointing a gun at you. You should be more careful."

He rounded the couch and sat down across Barton slowly so as not to spook him, but Barton still didn't really pay him attention.

"Do you want a coffee?" he asked, upset by Barton's behavior. "A tea … a glass of wat—"

"'M sorry," Barton said.

Loki slowly shook his head, feigning ignorance. "About what?"

"You know about what," Barton said impatiently, "about going MIA on you."

"You don't owe me anything," Loki said as conversationally as possible, although he felt a knot in his stomach, a growing trepidation.

"No, but I still feel kinda bad, okay?" Barton fidgeted. "I feel weird, this thing between us. It's just sex so it's all right, but it kinda weirded me out. So I just needed to get away for a bit. But I didn't mean to …"

He trailed off, looking intently at his knee, took a deep breath. "I mean, I know you changed and all. Just wanted to say we're … okay."

"Okay," Loki echoed, not really understanding what Barton was trying to say.

"You're doing a great job, so the past's the past and I don't give a fuck about that."

"Okay," Loki repeated.

"Okay." Barton looked immensely relieved and at the same time panicked. He seemed ready to bolt.

In this moment Loki realized that he would lose whatever little piece of Barton he had, if he would let him walk away now.

He stood up and very slowly walked towards him, then sat down beside him, pressing his thigh against Barton's leg.

"So, with that out of the way, why not have just a little fun?" he suggested. He grinned, and ran his tongue over his lips.

Barton looked indecisive. His eyes flickered from his lips to his eyes and back. 

"I don't know …" Barton said very hesitantly.

"It's only sex. We're doing each other a favor," Loki said, deciding to be bold, and putting his hand onto Barton's knee and stroking it.

Barton still looked doubtful, but he did nothing to dislodge Loki's hand. Loki moved his hand upwards, itching to cup that hard cock, to feel it under his palm. 

"Just this once," Barton said finally, and Loki cheered internally.

"Just this once," he agreed, humming. 

He got up and took Barton's hand, leading him into his bedroom. 

His bed wasn't too big, but comfortable. The cleaners hadn't been there yet, so it was unmade, and his room was slightly messy, with a pile of clothing lying on top of a chair, his desk cluttered with papers and notes, and two laptops hanging on a charger.

He undressed Barton tenderly, remembering how Barton had undressed him that night in Stuttgart.

Barton only stood stock still, as if disbelieving what he was doing or what was going to happen.

Loki undressed himself, then went to his bedside drawer and took out the lube. He took Barton's hand and laid him onto the bed. Barton stared at the ceiling.

Loki quickly prepared himself, just pushed two fingers coated with lube inside him, sliding them in and out. He poured a copious amount of lube onto Barton's stiff prick then stroked him. Barton closed his eyes, just lying there.

Loki straddled him and rested his twitching hole against Barton's cock, moving slowly back and forth. Finally after a minute or so, Barton let out a strained breath and took hold of Loki's hips, pushing inside, not too slow, not too fast.

It felt heavenly. Loki's toes curled with pleasure. Somehow Barton managed to slide in without even the slightest trace of pain, as if they had been made to do this.

He arched his back and moaned, smiling as a familiar warmth washed over his skin. Eager to please Barton, he moved up and down, only using his thigh muscles to squeeze and milk Barton's cock. 

Barton bit his lips and grunted, fucking back into Loki's welcoming body. When Loki bent a little forward to entwine his fingers with Barton's though, Barton pulled them back, instead sliding his hands up his arms and stroking his chest.

With gentle pressure he began to push Loki onto his cock, manoeuvred his body just so, and suddenly Loki convulsed and screamed—the spot that had been brushed by Barton's cock was now being hit with every thrust; the intense pleasure was almost unbearable. 

Barton reached up with one hand and teased Loki's hard, swollen nipples and Loki came, gasping Barton's name, collapsing onto him, twitching.

He felt Barton's rapid heartbeat, felt Barton grunt as he pushed into Loki, and Loki held onto him, looking into Barton's face. Barton closed his eyes, for a moment, but then opened them and stared back into Loki's eyes, with the same wondrous, adoring expression in them, Loki remembered from Stuttgart and something inside his heart burnt bright with happiness.

When Barton moved to pull out, Loki held onto him, refusing to give up that feeling of closeness, but Barton only stiffened, and reluctantly Loki let go.

Barton patted Loki's hand, then got up and went into the bathroom where he pissed, then took a shower.

Loki curled up in the bed, breathing in Barton's smell to alleviate the strange pain in his chest.

Minutes later Barton emerged from the bathroom and got dressed. Loki put a lighthearted smile onto his face.

"That wasn't too bad," he purred.

Barton looked at him, somewhat puzzled, but then nodded. 

"Yeah," he said, pulling on his socks.

Loki watched him.

"Are you leaving already?" he asked, cursing himself in the same moment—he sounded too needy.

Barton didn't look at him. 

"Gotta go," he murmured. "Have a lot of stuff to do."

"Stuff. To. Do," Loki repeated blankly. He pulled the blankets over his body.

Barton finished dressing and pulled his boots on.

"Kay, see you soon," he mumbled. 

He stood in the doorframe for a while, awkwardly. 

"Have a good day," he said.

Loki listened to Barton's footsteps in the hall, the door shutting after him.

After an hour he managed to get up and shower, then spent the evening watching TV, flicking idly through the channels. He came to himself when the high-pitched singing of a pizza delivery commercial pulled him out of his daze.

*****

Loki wasn't surprised to not see Barton during the next weeks. He went to the office almost daily, always finding something to do. Although it meant that Fury had to dispatch a driver and a car to take Loki from Stark Tower to the S.H.I.E.L.D office, he was happy it seemed—Loki in the S.H.I.E.L.D premises was always better than Loki being by himself and bored. At least that way he was engaged and unable to get up to mischief.

There were awkward moments because despite his involvement in some highly classified cases, Loki had no permission to access the files themselves and was excluded from high-priority meetings. Fury had to effectively work around the fact that Loki still posed a threat—theoretically, although he never seemed to be interested in sabotage at all.

Loki supposed he should be flattered as word reached him that Tony Stark and Banner pressed Fury to place more trust in Loki. It would speed up work considerably if meetings and briefings with Loki would not always have to be separate; important issues would be resolved much faster.

Fury signaled openness to the idea to include Loki in meetings with The Avengers, and soon Loki had his first meeting about an alien attack in West Europe with Rogers and Romanoff. He had briefly worked for teams that had included Romanoff and Rogers in the recent past, and he had established a sort of truce with them, but then again, he had never been involved in Avenger projects before. 

The briefing went well; of course Rogers and Romanoff both were disciplined, and if they still felt any mistrust towards him, they were able to hide it well enough and focus on the mission. As he could answer every question about the aliens they asked him, even provide them with more information about their weaknesses and strengths, and deliver four different likely scenarios of their attacks, he could feel them relax around him.

Around three o'clock Rogers interrupted and suggested a lunch break. Romanoff immediately suggested a place where they could have excellent sushi. After the tiniest hesitant pause, Rogers turned to Loki and asked, "Are you in?"

"Yes," Loki answered, feeling he had been asked more than to just join lunch, "I am in."

The mission's progress was monitored feverishly by Fury and the other Avengers, and when after a week the operatives in West Europe called through to report that they had managed to eliminate the threat and that all of Loki's information had proved to be correct, Loki knew he had more or less passed the last hurdle.

The next operation involved Stark and Banner as well, and Loki found himself in the strange situation of explaining to the very people he had tried to destroy just a few months ago how to read and activate a nordic relic S.H.I.E.L.D had retrieved in Finland.

After two weeks, Barton's return was due. Tony, ever the co-dependent and Rogers, ever the team-mother had somehow established a ritual to always greet the ones returning from a mission on the heli pad. 

This was the first time Loki was invited to it, of course by Rogers. Loki knew well that everyone else had probably objected to the invitation, but before anyone could say anything, Loki had accepted, feigning indifference and aloofness.

Still, he had not managed to sleep for the entire night before, sick with anticipation and like a love-struck kid had changed outfits twice.

He opted for a pair of jeans and a light grey t-shirt, because he wanted to look as different from his old Asgardian self as possible. His hair was shorter now, and he wore it curly, too afraid to remind Barton of these days, and when he looked at himself in the mirror he was almost satisfied. It was impossible to connect that guy with the tousled hair and the Converse with the alien clad in enchanted metal and armour. 

Despite his attempt not to arrive too early he was the first one to enter Stark's rooftop apartment. Stark looked shocked to see him.

"You … look different," he said.

That was the plan, Loki thought to himself, but instead gave him a smile and pushed his hands into his front pockets and pulled up his shoulders; he had seen people do that on TV. 

Stark asked him about his work—if he liked it, what he thought about S.H.I.E.L.D, how he felt operational processes could be improved, were there any problems or issues, how did he get on with other S.H.I.E.L.D employees. Loki recognized them as set questions all new recruits were asked. Despite his chattiness, Loki could sense Tony watching him like a hawk behind his amiable attitude.

Romanoff came together with Rogers and Banner.

Clint Barton arrived punctually, carrying two heavy looking bags with him. He grinned lazily at Romanoff, waved at Rogers, Stark and Banner. He stopped and his grin faltered when he saw Loki who had positioned himself in the background.

He continued to approach, but Loki could see that he was tense now in the way his grin turned kind of crooked and forced.

"Hey guys," he said when he was close enough. Stark pressed a drink into his hand. 

"I heard Nicaragua was a success," he said. "Again. You're becoming the Nicaragua expert around here."

"What the fuck is this?" Barton ignored him, making a sweeping hand gesture, the drink sloshing over the rim.

"That is an Old Fashioned," Stark said, pointing at the drink. "Your favorite drink. Immaculately mixed, by the way. Don't spill it."

"Loki works with us now," Rogers said, rolling his eyes at Stark. "Directly."

Loki, somehow troubled by the strange expression in Barton's eyes, took a step back.

"Okay. Right," Barton said. 

He took a large gulp from his drink. Rogers, Stark, Romanoff and Banner watched him anxiously, but Barton just dropped his bags, pressed the cold glass against his temple and said, "I've been looking forward to a decently made Old Fashioned!" 

He walked to the counter, and everyone followed, tentative relief palpable. 

"I didn't eat for two days, I'm fucking hungry. What about you, guys?"

Stark and Banner clapped his back, exchanging glances. Stark mixed drinks for everyone. Loki took only a sip from his drink. Besides Odin and Frigga only Thor knew that Loki had problems with metabolizing alcohol and got drunk far too quickly if he didn't watch it. Saying that, he was so nervous, and he took another sip to calm his fluttering nerves.

Banner suggested take away food. Barton began to talk about his mission—the non-classified stuff anyway and to relate stories about one team member everyone seemed to hate. The five of them bonded for a while over their shared dislike of this particular person like high schoolers, then the talk became technical as Barton expressed his longing for some sort of long-range weapon Fury had denied him.

Not once did Barton look at him, not once did he take notice, although Loki took care to at least grin a little at appropriate times when someone made a joke. Rogers began to speak as well, and Loki cringed nearly with embarrassment as he realized that Rogers was speaking of the cooperation of the last weeks and mentioning Loki _on purpose_ as if to force Barton to acknowledge him.

"Loki wrote a great brief, and the way he assisted us on our research and strategic planning really improved the entire mission," he said, his eyes firmly on Barton.

"Yeah, good research … important stuff," Barton mumbled, but still didn't look at Loki.

Another short silence descended upon them until Stark said something and Banner laughed too loudly. Barton continued to mumble his answers into his glass. Loki found it best to just not say a word. Suddenly Romanoff had a look of intense concentration on her face as she studied both Loki and Barton's faces.

"What I don't get is that you guys have already worked together, like three months ago," she said, cutting off Stark in the middle of a sentence. "I mean I was at the briefing. You were cool with him. You and Loki got along fine. You even gave him a lift home once or twice."

"Once," Barton mumbled, now red in his face and looking at the counter. “Maybe twice.”

"So, what's the issue now? Because clearly there is one. Are you now uncomfortable with Loki because he's working with us on Avenger projects?"

"I'm not uncomfortable," Barton defended himself. "I was just a bit … surprised is all. And I'm a bit tired and—"

Romanoff studied him intently, then looked again at Loki, and now Loki felt his face heat up as well. 

"I actually have another brief to write and should get to it," he said, trying to avoid her eyes.

He had wanted to sound lighthearted and cool, but his voice came out as a squeak.

Romanoff narrowed her eyes.

"You had sex," she said tonelessly.

"What?" Loki said.

"What?" Barton said in a panicked, high-pitched voice.

"Wait, what? Who had sex with who? Why wasn't I invited?" Stark asked.

Rogers only followed Romanoff's eyes from Barton to Loki and groaned. "Oh my god!"

"Hence the cologne," Stark said, pointing at Loki. "And here I thought you put it on because of me."

"It was nothing, just a fuck, okay?" Barton finally spat out, his face nearly purple. "You know what? I'm tired, I need some sleep, and I can't deal with this right now. I'll see you guys later."

He hoisted his bags and stomped away from them. Jarvis politely opened the elevator doors for him.

"Welcome back, Mr. Barton," he said. "Did you have a pleasant trip?"

"Yeah, whatever, shut up," he mumbled, and the doors closed behind him.

"Phew." Stark took a sip of his drink. "Hawk-ward."

Banner and Romanoff actually nearly smiled before they caught themselves.

Rogers glared at Loki. "I trusted you."

Stark emptied his glass. "I didn't, but I'm gonna glare at you anyway."

Romanoff said nothing, just helped herself to a whiskey.

If this had been anyone else than Barton, Loki would have had no problem whatsoever to talk himself out of this. After all, it was about two consenting adults having intimate relationships. Work relationships were frowned upon, but especially in the case of S.H.I.E.L.D agents and employees it would be nearly impossible to have functioning relationships otherwise. Most of them worked long hours, sometimes even spent the night at work when a mission was in a critical phase (which was often). A lot of their work could not be discussed outside of work and especially not with non-S.H.I.E.L.D members, and a handful of employees were not even allowed to mention the very nature of their work or their job titles because of possible legal issues that could arise. Most colleagues Loki had met in the last weeks had relationships with other colleagues, and as long as they were discreet no one cared. 

"He is not being mind controlled," Loki finally said. "I am not doing anything to him."

Rogers looked at Romanoff, who shrugged. "From what I know, he's not lying."

"It … complicates things a lot," Banner said. "There is the issue with relationships between two S.H.I.E.L.D employees, both of them who are involved in Class A priority cases. Then there is the consent issue; we have no idea if Barton isn't somehow coerced. I'm sorry," and at that he shot Loki an apologetic look, "but just because you say you're not controlling his mind doesn't make it true."

Stark put his head in his hands.

"No offense, but I just can't imagine that Clint would let you near him after all that has happened. It's just … wrong."

Loki didn't know what he could say to that. They were right. After all that had happened, it was impossible that Barton would ever trust him again.

"What are you going to do?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"First, you're going to tell us exactly when what happened how," Stark said, pointing at him.

"Then we have to speak to Clint," Romanoff added.

"We have to do our best to discover the true nature of your relationship," Banner said.

"And then we have to decide if we inform Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D." Rogers said.

"I suggest you wait until Barton is in a more receptive mood, and then ask him, seeing as I can't really say anything that is of value to you," he said, "since whatever I say would be doubted by you."

He emptied his glass, put it down on the counter and stalked out. 

Once he was in his own apartment he sagged against the wall, feeling inexplicably exhausted and tired. There was also a pesky ache in his chest, probably caused by that bitter drink of Stark's. He felt a little warm, his skin tingling.

He was angry. 

How could Barton say what he had said? That it was _just a fuck_? That it meant nothing? If Loki could bear only the faintest resemblance to the man he once used to be, he'd crush Barton, would rip his beating heart out of his chest.

He had no right feeling what he was feeling, but the unfortunate, infuriating thing was that it didn't help. Barton had every reason, every right to hate him. There was no reason whatsoever for Barton to even endure his presence.

And yet.

That one memory, that one night in Stuttgart refused to fade. On the contrary: in the last weeks Loki had even begun dreaming of the night, reliving it in every passionate detail. If there had been any truth in Barton's actions in these days of him being under the scepter's control then it had been this night. The scepter possessed great power, could subdue minds and numb the heart, but it could not create true love, true passion.

Barton may try to convince himself that what he had been feeling had been a lie, but Loki knew better.

He straightened up and got to his feet and walked to the elevator again.

Jarvis opened the doors.

"Floor 34, Clint Barton's floor," he said, slightly dizzy. 

At Floor 34 he had to wait, but after five minutes the doors opened and Clint stood before him. His hair was wet and he wore only a towel.

Loki smelled whiskey on his breath. 

Something in Barton's gaze made his heart clench with pain but also sent a frisson of fear through him.

"When you bedded me, it was of your own volition," Loki said, not able to suppress the anger in his voice. "I didn't do this to you. This was your doing, your heart."

His voice was louder than he liked it to be.

"When I killed ten S.H.I.E.L.D agents, some of them who were my friends," Barton said, and his voice was slurred, "was that something you didn't do as well? Was that my doing as well? My heart?"

Loki shook his head, trying to say something.

"Tell me," Barton said, "because sometimes I don't know. I wish I could draw this line, but I can't. I don't remember anymore what was me and what was you."

Loki realized in that moment that he had never desired to undo something so much as he did right now. He had never felt remorse before, and he wasn't even sure if what he felt right now could be called remorse. He just knew that he would do everything to wipe the pain in Barton's eyes away.

He stepped back, ready to leave, but in that moment, Barton grabbed him by his arm and yanked him out of the elevator, slammed him against the wall beside the doors. Loki gasped in surprise, but Barton's mouth was already on him, burning, angry, but also desperate.

They made it to the couch, tangled limbs and all, stumbling over the glass coffee table. Barton's gear was all over that table and the couch, a neatly laid out array of archery equipment: bows, arrows, screws and bolts that Barton carelessly swiped aside before pushing Loki down on the velvet cushions.

He arched into Barton's touch, writhed with abandon when Barton undressed him and, like a man dying of hunger, began to feast on his hole. Loki moaned and thrust his hips up, literally shoved his ass into Barton's face. Barton took his hips with both hands then pushed his tongue into his hole and began to fuck him with it and open him up.

Clint laved his hole with broad swipes of his tongue, and then seemed to sniff it like a dog before he continued eating it again.

"So pretty," he mumbled into the crack of his ass, then licked and sucked again. 

Loki couldn't stand it any longer and scrambled to pull the damp towel away from Barton. He gripped the hot, thick length of Barton's cock and started stroking it.

"I want that inside me," he said fiercely. 

He pushed Barton back, crawled between his legs and began to suck his cock. He licked it greedily, enjoying its heavy, throbbing feel on his tongue. He took care to lave it in his saliva and wetted it thoroughly.

"I bet you do," Barton snarled, and Loki grinned up at him.

When Loki finally pulled Barton's cock from between his lips it was still connected through a string of pre-cum and saliva. He smiled up at Barton through his lashes, and Barton inhaled sharply and flipped him over. Loki arched his back, pushing his ass up like a bitch in heat. 

"Please," he moaned, "I need you."

Barton wetted his own fingers and pushed them into his hole, opening his hole further up, then slid his cock in. He held Loki in place, but Loki batted his hands away and impaled himself on Barton's cock ignoring the twinge of pain.

Barton cried out, overwhelmed by the sudden tight heat.

Loki relished the pain, the feeling of being full.

"Doesn't it hurt?" Barton said behind him, his voice strained.

"Yes," said Loki, twisting his upper body to look at Barton. "Does it feel good? Don't you want to hurt me?"

Barton took hold of Loki's hips again and stilled them. 

"No," he said. He leant over Loki's back, pressed his chest against his spine, and began to kiss Loki. 

Loki kissed back, openmouthed, hungrily. He had never paid much attention to kissing before he had met Barton, but Barton's kisses undid him in the most delicious way he'd ever known. 

After a while Barton started thrusting again, but slowly and gently while stroking Loki's flank with one hand and entwining his fingers with his other hand.

"All right?" he whispered, and Loki could only moan and thrust back.

Barton refused to speed up but instead continued his slow torture and his thrusts turned into a sweet, languid gliding. 

"You're so beautiful," Barton said, "so perfect."

Loki laughed breathlessly. He pressed himself against Barton.

Barton kissed his neck and carded his fingers through his hair.

"I love you," Barton whispered.

Loki shut his eyes closed and shook his head, but Barton repeated what he said, over and over again. It felt too good. It felt safe and real and true, as if Barton, _his_ Barton was back, and yet he knew somehow that something was off.

"Stop it," he told Barton.

"Say it." Barton pushed in.

"Barton, you don't have to—"

Barton kissed him again.

" _Say it_ ," he demanded, his thrusts becoming more urgent, deeper. Loki lost his focus, hazy with pleasure. "Say it, I need to hear it."

Loki crumbled.

"I love you," he whispered, every word tearing him apart.

"My name," Barton insisted. His voice was rough and so close to Loki's ear it felt as if it came from his heart. "Say it."

"I love you, Clint," Loki finally blurted out, realizing that tears were streaming down his face.

"Shh, see that wasn't so bad, was it?" Clint rocked him, held him. "That wasn't bad at all."

Loki had the distinct feeling that Clint didn't know himself who he was talking about.

He was unable to speak, shaking with emotions. Clint fucked into him, and with every thrust confessed his love anew, like a mantra, and Loki heard himself babbling like a child.

He remembered the moment he was dangling from the Bifrost, moments before he let go. He had felt ready to die then, ready to perish because he had felt so lonely. 

This time he would not let go. This time he would hold onto the only real, the only beautiful thing he was given. He did not deserve this, and yet here it was, Clint's heart, given to him freely without the force of the scepter. In his heart he knew that maybe this selfishness would not come without a price tag, but he was ready to pay any price for this moment.

Whenever Clint moved, he felt an impossible warmth and heat spreading through him, pulling him closer and closer to his orgasm. He heard Clint's breathing speed up, felt his hands gripping him tight, and then Clint thrust into him, and Loki howled, spreading his legs as far as possible, feeling his orgasm coursing through him.

He was aware of the things he screamed, but he couldn't care any longer. He had waited for this man for an eternity, he thought, had waited for him as long as he existed, and now that he had found him he would not care any longer. He could have this, he thought, and he would.

Clint's thrusts became erratic and fast before he stiffened.

"Loki," he gasped out and then Loki felt flooded with his come, running hot and thick out of his hole, down his thighs. Clint collapsed on top of him, a sweaty, warm weight. 

After a while Clint moved off him and instead spooned him, grumbling into his ear before dozing off.

It had been that easy, Loki marveled. From all possible scenarios he had built up in his head, he had never expected this. He had never thought it could be that simple—to say I love you, and to be told. To hold someone and be held. To kiss someone and be kissed.

Loki fell asleep to the even rhythm of Clint's soft snores.

*****

When he awoke, Clint had already gone to the office.

Loki knew that meetings with Fury were notoriously early—Fury liked to have staff meetings like these out of the way before he began his work—so he wasn't concerned. 

Cautiously Loki swung his legs over the edge of the sofa, wincing at the soreness in his ass, but remembering the night, grinned. He knew he looked most likely like a fool, but no one was there to see it.

Feeling impish he decided to use Clint's shower, trying his shower gels and almost reluctantly removed the last traces of their tryst. He went upstairs to his own place, wearing his own trousers, but one of Clint's clean shirts, still smiling.

A car came to pick him up and drive him to S.H.I.E.L.D quarters. Loki, dressed with extra care in a light grey suit and a pale ivory shirt, found it impossible to wipe the grin from his face and busied himself with looking out of the window, keeping a hand in front of his mouth.

For the first time, he truly looked at the people outside. It seemed to him that there were a lot of young couples out there, women and men, boys and girls, girls and girls, boys and boys. He had never thought himself capable of feeling fondness for mortals, but how could one not like them when they looked so happy, so content. A young man was lifting a baby out of a stroller; a woman was kissing her lover. The world was full of love.

"You're in a good mood today, heh?" the driver said. 

Embarrassed, Loki dropped his smile and put a neutral expression on his face.

Before heading to his briefing with Hill and possibly Fury, he checked his emails and his calendar. Furtively he glanced around for a sign of Clint. After sending a few messages he walked towards Hill's office, but made a detour through the other workstation where Clint had his desk.

Disappointingly, Clint was nowhere to be seen. 

"Can I help you?" an agent asked him pointedly—the girl Clint had been flirting with last time.

"I was just looking for Agent Barton," he said to her.

"He's not in the office today," the girl said, rather waspishly.

"Don't worry, I'll just text him," Loki said and smirked at her. 

Maria Hill intercepted him before he could enter her office.

"Director Fury needs to talk to you," she said, taking his elbow and steering him toward Fury's office. 

Fury was standing with his back to the door when Loki entered, which was always a bad sign.

Loki shut the door behind him and sat down.

"Since when do you and Agent Barton have an intimate relationship?" Fury asked. 

Loki blinked. Somehow the idea that Barton had immediately reported to Fury was somehow disturbing and flattering. Maybe that was Barton's version of making their … _affair_ official?

"Hard to say. A few months," Loki replied finally. 

Fury turned around and looked sharply at Loki. 

"Agent Barton submitted a request for psychological evaluation today," Fury told him. "He withdrew from several missions in order to undergo treatment at one of our facilities, telling us that he believed to be compromised. By you."

Loki said nothing for a while. His skin felt too tight and cold. When Fury remained silent too, he eventually cleared his voice.

"Where is he?" he asked, against better knowledge.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss his whereabouts with you," Fury said.

Loki stared at the polished surface of Fury's desk.

"I don't know what to say."

"How about telling me what is going on?" Fury said impatiently.

Before Loki could reply, he said, "I know that you are likely not using mind-control on him. Too many facts speak against that: Odin's assurance that your magic is limited in this aspect, then that Barton does not exhibit any signs of being under your influence, the fact that you were able to do so in the first place only with substantial help from the Chitauri and the scepter. Last but not least, I trust Agent Romanoff's judgment."

He paused, watching Loki with an irritated grimace.

He told me that he loved me, Loki remembered.

And yet, Barton had not been able to trust his own heart. And how could he, after all Loki had done to it? Mortal hearts were so fragile. Loki had destroyed the only thing capable of loving him. 

"Is Agent Barton saying that our encounters were not consensual?"

Fury shook his head. "If it were that simple, I'd be grateful. No offense."

No offense? Loki bit his lip, forcing himself to stay silent.

"Barton maintains that you didn't rape or influence him _consciously_ , whatever that means, but he thinks that he is still under your … thrall. That he was never freed from the influence your scepter had on him in the first place."

Fury heaved a heavy sigh.

"It's not like we can afford to lose two valuable employees. You are both crucial for our missions at the moment, and honestly, I'd rather you and Barton find a way to resolve this and carry on your duties."

"I do not understand how Agent Barton can claim he is under my influence yet regards our intimate encounters as consensual," Loki said after a while.

"I don't either, but let us, for a moment, just cherish the fact he doesn't press charges against you," Fury spat, sitting back. "It's the little things that make me happy."

"What do you want me to do?" Loki asked, surprised how rough his voice sounded, how every word he spoke hurt so very much.

"What _can_ you do?" Fury looked skeptical. "Surely you can appreciate for yourself how fucked up this situation is. Believe me, I am not happy at all with the recent developments between you and Agent Barton, but seeing that it's 'consensual,' it's hardly something I can meddle with. You and Barton have to sort this out amongst yourselves like grown ups."

"Agent Barton doesn't want to see me, correct?" Loki asked softly. The idea of never seeing Barton again was nearly suffocating. 

Fury only sighed. "I really don't know how I ended up in this teenage drama."

"Agent Barton believing he is still under the scepter's influence when he is not is hardly simply a teenage drama," Loki said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice for once.

"Well, can you blame him for not trusting you?"

Loki didn't answer that.

"I am concerned about losing an excellent field operative. I need Barton. I need you too, but when it comes to making a choice, I'm going with Agent Barton. His loyalty is proven, and the only acts of disloyalty he committed were committed under duress."

"Of course," Loki said mechanically. 

He had often felt pain in his life, but never this kind of numb, frozen pain. He heard himself speak from far away. Suddenly he saw Barton's face before him, smiling at him. He shook his head, pressing his fingers to his temples.

The memory of Barton, only a few hours old, pressing himself against his back and murmuring, threatened to undo his control.

"Put the device on me," Loki said.

Fury frowned. "Device?"

"The collar," Loki said.

Then Fury remembered. "It was meant only as a last resort."

Loki shrugged. "It is in a way."

"You would not be able to exercise any kind of magic—the item has been developed with the help of Asgard, namely your father Odin."

Loki took a deep breath, suppressing a sharp retort about Odin, but reigned himself in.

"If I wore this device and Agent Barton were the one to hold onto the," his lips twitched, "remote … would this not alleviate his fears considerably?"

Fury's face was pensive. 

"Do you mean to tell me that Agent Barton's well-being is of such relevance for you?" he asked. "That you would voluntarily limit what you have left of your abilities?"

"I have caused Agent Barton distress," Loki said, uneasy to be under such scrutiny. "If he can be absolutely sure that my magic is controlled, he would be able to trust me. And so far you do not require my magic, only the information, the knowledge I can provide."

"Loki," Fury said, leaning forward. Loki looked up at him, slightly startled to hear his name. "If you truly agree to this I am in need of evidence that you undergo this procedure voluntarily. I need your written and signed consent, and the procedure of attaching the device will be filmed to prove that there was no coercion from our side. You will be interviewed by the Council as to your motives. What are you planning to say?"

Loki warred with himself.

"I am willing to offer the removal of my magical abilities in penance for the lives I have taken, for the grief I have caused. I wish to do everything in my power to aid in the rebuilding of the places I have destroyed. As a sign of my commitment I agree to have my magical abilities bound and neutralised."

Fury nodded pensively. If it was even possible, Loki could have sworn that his features softened, that his one eye looked kinder at him than ever before.

"This will change a lot," Fury said. "Whatever you say, whatever the world will believe, Agent Barton will know how far you went to gain his trust, and I am sure your gesture will aid his recovery."

Loki stood, crossing his arms in front of his chest to hide the trembling of his hands. How strange that Fury treated his offer like a sacrifice and pitied him, when he himself felt so much hope.

The solution had been so close, so near, and he had failed to see it. In leveling the playing field, as the mortals said, everything would be different from now on. 

He simply knew that this would be enough for Barton.

This was his chance, his last chance and he would take it.

*****

The collar was slimmer than the last one Loki had seen exploding—a modified version of the old device, Stark said proudly.

Everyone avoided the word collar.

Banner had found a new formula to reinforce the steel with the aid of the metals Thor had brought from Asgard. Loki listened to the explanations Banner gave with a careful, neutral face. 

The Council lauded him for his decision and his display of remorse, expressed their "hope" in a fruitful future relationship with Asgard. Fury laid out, in his clumsy, straightforward way that made everyone uncomfortable (except for Loki) how his cooperativeness would be "rewarded" by transferring an amount to Loki’s bank account that was enough to buy a small African state.

Loki had to sign an impressive amount of paperwork, all under the watchful eyes of several cameras. Every time he signed another batch of documents someone whisked them away, passed them on to Fury who had to sign as well, and asked him if he wanted a glass of water, tea or coffee.

Thor, who had returned to Midgard just for this occasion, held himself in the background. When the first agreement was laid in front of him to sign, he hesitated.

"Is this truly what you wish, brother?" he asked, and only when Loki nodded, he took the offered pen and signed.

Loki was driven back to Stark Tower where he stood a long time in front of the mirror, staring at himself and the slim collar around his neck.

*****

It took another few weeks until he was finally allowed to see Agent Barton.

The van and the plane he boarded had shuttered windows. The only thing he could discern upon arriving was that the facility Barton was held in, was in a cold, northern country like Russia. He was no longer able to determine the location by using his magic because of that device and could only guess upon the knowledge he had of Midgardian geography. 

Fury and a very impressive security detail accompanied him, but they granted him five minutes alone with Barton. When Loki entered the visitation room, he was surprised to see Barton sitting at a table with no glass separating them. Uniformed guards stepped forward, patted him down, and then left the room.

"Hi," Barton said. 

He was dressed in a white shirt and dark trousers. He had lost a little weight but looked well rested and relaxed.

"Fury and Tony told me about that," he pointed at Loki's throat. The device was covered with a scarf, but Loki pulled it down, revealing the matte silver device. Barton leaned closer and looked at it. Loki raised his chin to give Barton a better look.

"It doesn't look like something so powerful," Barton murmured.

Loki shrugged, secretly proud of how effortless he managed the gesture, tugging at the sleeves of his pullover.

Barton didn't say anything for a while.

Loki checked his phone. "I have only four minutes left with you." He gave Barton a little smile. "So … maybe we should get the conversation started."

"Look," Barton said, looking at his hands, "I'm sorry for taking off and panicking—for accusing you. The minute I realized how difficult I made it for you, I tried to backtrack. I didn't want S.H.I.E.L.D to come after you—"

"They didn't," Loki said, suppressing his excitement. "Did they not tell you? It was _my_ decision. I suggested it."

Barton fell silent at that, then slightly shook his head the way he always did when he was confused, and smiled tentatively.

"Why'd you do that?"

"I have not intended to harm you, but in hindsight I understand what our interaction did to you," Loki said. "I want you to trust me. You can trust me now." 

He touched his collar.

Barton shook his head again as if something did not make sense. 

"When I woke up … you know … after we fucked … I—," Barton struggled for words, and if they were not in the dire excuse of a room, Loki would have found Barton's inability to form sentences endearing. "I just felt … I felt exactly the same way I had felt in Stuttgart."

He looked at Loki, his eyes wide.

"I felt so right. Like that thing between us is … real. Like you're the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me."

Loki could not prevent his heart from soaring. 

"And it freaked me out," Barton continued. "I thought about Stuttgart, and being not myself, and I just didn't know any longer if that was me. I didn't handle it well, I guess."

"I understand, Agent Barton," Loki said after a while, cursing the sadness that replaced his momentary elatedness. "I understand this must be difficult for you."

"What I don't get is _why_ this is so important to you. _My_ trust. Why do you want it?"

Loki closed his mouth, thrown off. A thousand things he wanted to say raced through his mind, but he could not possibly tell Barton them here in this bare room with Fury and half of S.H.I.E.L.D standing outside and probably listening in.

"It's irrelevant," Loki said instead. "I merely hoped that my visit and showing you the changes that have taken place would make a positive impact on you."

He stood, although it wasn't even time yet, but Barton stood too.

"I hope you get better soon," Loki said and turned to leave. Before he reached the door, Barton pulled him into his arms.

"Thank you," Barton whispered against his lips and kissed him. Loki kissed back, holding onto Barton. He knew that there were cameras and people watching, but he couldn't care less.

"Listen," Barton said, and Loki nodded although he could hardly hear anything over the beating of his heart, "I can't promise anything. This is all pretty overwhelming but … I'll be out of here soon. And when I'm back in New York, I'd like to see you again and just see where this goes. I mean we'll just take it slow. Step-by-step. Okay?"

"Okay," Loki said. "Slow."

Then Barton kissed him again, and the next time Loki opened his eyes was when guards pulled him and Barton apart.

Surprisingly, Fury did not grill him about his meeting during the flight back, but instead buried himself in a magazine and avoided looking at Loki.

*****

A month later Barton was back in New York.

He called from the airport: since he had not been on a mission he didn't get the helicopter ride straight to Stark Tower and had to hail a cab like a civilian.

"I was wondering if you'd like to grab a drink with me tonight," he said, sounding nervous. "Just to ... talk."

"Yes," Loki agreed. "It would be a good idea to talk."

Half an hour later Jarvis announced Barton. Loki opened the elevator doors, hair still damp from the shower. Barton was leaning against the back of the elevator wall, with his sunglasses on and grinning.

"Hi," he said.

“Hi,” Loki said.

For a while they both didn’t say anything. As the silence grew heavy and oppressive Loki’s smile faltered. 

“Would you like to come in?”

Barton nodded, then stepped out of the elevator.   Before Loki could move back, Barton’s hand was on his arm. Loki swallowed thickly. He removed the hand and said “Agent Barton, I—”

Barton’s lips were on his, before he could say anything else.

He took Loki and pressed him against the wall beside the elevator. Barton tasted of dust and the slow heat of the autumn sun, of the soda he must have had earlier, of coffee, of Midgard.

Loki opened his mouth letting Barton in. Every touch of Barton’s tongue ignited him further.

Loki slid down the wall, pulling Barton with him. Barton pulled Loki’s t-shirt over his head and discarded it, then fumbled with his jeans. Loki twisted around, and lifted his bum from the hardwood floor to help Barton with getting off the tight jeans. Barton pressed kisses on every inch of skin he uncovered, even onto his long, bare feet, licked and bit as if he couldn’t get enough.

Loki leaned back against the wall, and his heart swelled at how Barton, despite being so reverent, undressed him with such greed, like a child unwrapping a present.

As soon as Loki was completely naked, Barton unzipped his own jeans, pulling out a hard, dripping cock.

He paused and looked at him. At first Loki thought he was asking for permission of sorts, but the moment continued, and suddenly Loki realized that something else, far more important was happening between them.

It was an acknowledgement. It was Barton’s way of facing what he was doing. He wasn’t turning away, wasn’t disengaging himself. He was looking at Loki and he was seeing him.

Barton leaned down and kissed him again, looking at him with earnest wide eyes.   Then he dove down, grabbed Loki’s long legs at his ankles and spread them apart. A moment later he pressed his mouth against Loki’s hole who gasped and arched up. 

Barton began to tease him with his tongue, flicking the tip against his sensitive rim. He licked and sucked with abandon, and soon Loki screamed while writhing and thrashing on the floor. 

When he felt close, he put a warning hand on Barton’s shoulder. 

“I want to come with you inside me,” he said.  Barton looked up, flushed, his eyes the color of the night sky.

“I want to make you nice and wet before,” he said. Then, without forewarning, he pressed two fingers into Loki.   Loki spread his legs even further apart. His cock jumped visibly, as if Barton had pushed it from inside, and leaked profusely pre-come.

Barton pulled his fingers out of Loki, coated them with the clear fluid on Loki’s pale stomach, then sank them back into his hole again.

He crooked his fingers upwards and Loki’s mind blanked out in pleasure. More pre-come pooled onto Loki’s belly, a clear string connected to his reddened, flushed cock.

Finally Barton pushed himself above Loki and pressed his cock into the pool of pre-come, slid it over Loki’s heated skin. Whimpering Loki lifted his legs and circled Barton’s waist, demanding and pleading.

“Fuck, Loki,” Barton whispered. “I need to fuck you right now.”

He slithered down and pressed the fat head of his cock against Loki’s pink, wet rim.

Loki had enough and pushed Barton in with his calves and heels. Barton groaned and sliding in and out, immediately delivered one perfect thrust after the other. 

Loki gasped. 

Barton’s cock had been made for his body. Even without trying he hit Loki’s prostate with every thrust.

Briefly—for a fraction of a second—he tried to hold himself back, to extend this pleasure, but then Barton increased the speed and depth of his thrusts and Loki was lost. 

He pulled Barton down when his orgasm hit him, desperate to press every inch of his body against him. He shuddered through waves and waves of pleasure. It didn’t seem to stop—whenever he thought it was over, a renewed wave flooded him, until he was floating in mindless bliss, a golden haze of lust. 

When Barton came, he went rigid and trembled, but never took his eyes off Loki. With Loki’s name on his lips he emptied himself into him, grinding his hips frantically against Loki, covering him with his entire body as if he couldn’t bear to be ever separated from him again.

While Barton fell asleep right after, clutching Loki tight, Loki was content to listen for a while to Barton’s rapid heartbeat slowing down. 

Loki laid his fingers onto Barton’s open palm and Barton’s fingers entwined with his.

*****

Epilogue

It was still dark at 5am in the morning when Clint entered the S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters. A group of agents who had been working all night, slipped past him into the elevator as he got out. The corridors on Fury’s floor were busy as always. S.H.I.E.L.D never really slept.

Everyone was already seated in the conference room. The chair beside Natasha was empty, and Barton sat down beside her. Steve, who sat on the other side pushed a cup of coffee over to him. 

"Nice of you to join us," Fury said, but somehow less scathingly than usual when he reprimanded latecomers to meetings. 

Tony mumbled into his coffee. 

"So, how is our Asgardian prince?" Fury asked Barton.

Maria Hill looked mulish, and Banner looked unhappy as ever.

Clint shrugged. "He doesn't suspect a thing, if that's what you mean."

"Is this the official debriefing to 'mission Loki'?" Tony demanded to know. "He put on that collar—"

" _Device_ ," Fury interrupted him.

"Device," Tony corrected himself, rolling his eyes, "Voluntarily. That's what we wanted, right?"

"The device works, right?" Natasha asked. Everyone looked at Clint.

"From what I can see, yes," he said. "He can't even heal the smallest scars."

His eyes got dreamy.

"I'd say he'll have to wear a scarf for quite a time."

Tony snorted. "Thanks for the visual imagery."

Clint performed a little mock-bow.

"Agent Barton, I expect a full and detailed report on Monday, 7 o'clock," Fury said, ignoring the last comments. 

"I know in a war there have to be tough measures, but I still think it was not right to deceive Loki like this," Steve said uncomfortably.

"He's proven enough how dangerous he can get," Natasha pointed out. "He was prepared to destroy Earth because of his family issues."

"He was coerced," Banner said.

"And now, knowing that he can't perform any magic, no one will bother to," Fury said, "which makes Loki safe. We are actually protecting him."

"Do you mean to say that the means justify the goal?" Steve asked in an icy voice. Only his slightly flushed cheeks betrayed his anger.

"Whatever objections you have to make, it's too late for them," Fury said. "It's done. Loki's magic is contained. Earth is a safer place for it. You're all welcome."

Fury turned to Bruce and Tony.

"I expect a report from you as well regarding the device. I trust you will continue to monitor its efficiency in regular intervals. With Loki we have to stay vigilant, is this understood?"

Bruce and Tony both nodded, Tony for once silent.

"Is that all?" Steve asked in a clipped tone, standing up.

"Not much more than to thank you for your detailed report on Loki in the weeks prior to him agreeing to take the collar. We could not have done it without you," Fury said coldly. "You and Romanoff befriending him helped us a great deal."

Steve said nothing but gritted his teeth.

"We all have done worse," Fury said. "This is no different than any of the missions we usually execute. Loki Laufeyson was a potential threat, which has now been eliminated, thanks to all of your work. Never forget that Loki was ready to unleash the Chitauri on us, killed more than hundreds of people within a few days. If it were not for Thor and Odin of Asgard, he'd have been executed. This way he gets to live."

"Has to be good enough, I suppose," Tony said. "And now excuse me, I need to get back home so I can drown my guilt in copious amounts of alcohol. I'd rather start earlier than later. Preferably an hour ago."

Romanoff's lip twitched.

Everyone got up, no one really looking into each other's eyes, and left the meeting room.

Clint was the last to leave.

"Agent Barton," Fury said.

Clint stopped at the door without turning around.

"Thank you," Fury said. “I especially appreciate your cooperation, and I hope you are aware of that.”

Clint merely nodded stiffly, then left the room.

Hill closed the door behind him.

"You know of course that Barton is compromised," she said.

"Of course," Fury snapped, "but he's our bait. Loki knows this. If he should misbehave, we can take Barton away from him in an instant."

"Do you think Loki will ever learn of this? Or Agent Barton will tell him?" 

Fury blinked slowly.

"It’s inevitable, you know that yourself, Hill. No secret is safe forever. The trick is to be able to determine when it doesn't matter when a secret is revealed."

He gave Hill a grim smile.

"The real secret here is that Loki already knows. He may not admit it to himself but deep down he knows. And that is our advantage. He needs Barton. And Barton is ours."

Hill shook her head. "But Agent Barton is not truly ours. He seems emotionally invested in Loki.”

Fury snorted. “Agent Barton is emotional but he also is loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D. Apart from that, we have our ways to ensure his cooperation.”

Hill wasn’t satisfied with his answer. “What will you do when one of them stops caring for the other?" 

Fury looked at her shrewdly. 

"Did I fail to train you? What do you think will happen?"

Hill shrugged.

"Well, Loki can always be contained with the detonator on the collar, so it doesn't matter much what he does," she ventured, "but Barton? He might try to set Loki free to alleviate his guilt."

Fury smirked and pushed a sheet of paper towards her on the table.

Hill recognized the remote for Loki's collar. It was a simple black box design, a grey rectangular device with a numerical keypad which could identify the fingers pressing the keys and automatically lock if someone other than the owner tried to activate the remote. It had, hidden beneath a flap, two buttons: one to open the collar, the other to detonate it.

"I know the remote," she said, somewhat irritated.

Then she understood. 

"The two buttons," she said. "They're the same. They _both_ detonate the collar. There is no button to open it."

Fury looked blankly at her.

"Let's get back to work," he said pleasantly. "We've got a lot of work to do."

He took the blueprint back and put it into his folder, then opened the door for her.

*****

The apartment was silent when Barton returned home in the late evening. Loki had left the S.H.I.E.L.D quarters earlier that day and had fallen asleep on the couch. The collar glinted slightly red in the lounge light.

He bent down and pressed a kiss onto Loki's forehead.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," Loki replied in a sleep-heavy voice. 

"Do you love me?" Clint asked.

Loki opened his eyes. 

He smiled.


End file.
